PINKY PROMISE

Today is Father’s Day. This time last year I wrote about it. I’ve let go pride and tradition that runs-a-muck on national holidays. Patriotism has devolved into overcooked narcissism and religion is just politics. Mother’s and Father’s Day are nice departures. Reverence is an independent experience that has been conscripted by religion. It’s not about God unless you chose to take it there. Reverence begins with feelings of awe. I am in awe when I peer down into the meandering courses of the Grand Canyon and try to imagine the process. My best efforts are terribly inadequate. Awe is the precursor. When the intellect and the ego unfold together, if you have any integrity at all, you realize that what you know is no more significant than any grain of sand, on any beach, anywhere. In our finest hour, our greatest accomplishment is just to breathe in, breathe out. If we are honest, open enough, something moves us to feel gratitude. When you strive after and get what you think you deserve, gratitude is not what you feel. Gratitude is the good feeling when you get better than you deserve, feeling both helpless and satiated; all you can do is concede to something beyond your comprehension. Today is the day we reflect on good memories that Moms and Dads left with us. Most of us got better than we deserved and it’s time we concede to that good feeling. Awe . . . Gratitude . . . Reverence; from Mom & Dad’s sacrifices to the breathing out and breathing in. 

I spent the morning yesterday in a high meadow, wading through tall grass, soaked with dew, taking photographs where I’ve taken so many before. It wasn’t about more photographs, it was about being there, transcending reverence with awe for the abundance of life and gratitude for the one that moves in me. I’m no mystic, not a flower child with arrested development, no agenda at all. In the movie, ‘Grumpy Old Men’ 90+ Burgess Meredith tells 60+ Jack Lemon, “When you die, all you get to take with you is your experience.” I don’t want mine to be about patriotism or religion, about regrets or dollar bills. I’d prefer ferns and wild flowers, butterfly kisses and a pinky promise.